Confessions of a Rockstar
by SlwMtionDaylite
Summary: Allhuman. SB I won’t lie to you. When I first got this gig, I wanted to be famous, but I think I lost what the point was. I realize that this job is designed to selfdestruct. If I think about what I could have become, it's a scary thought.
1. Chapter 1   Lead Vocalist Wanted

**Confessions of a Rock Star**

By SlwMtionDaylite

Disclaimer: Joss owns all. I own nothing'.

Summary: "Look, I won't lie to you. When I first got this gig, I just wanted to be famous, but somewhere along the way, I think I lost what the bloody point of it all was. I realize that this job is basically designed to self-destruct. And, now if I think about what I could have become…What I might have been. it's a scary thought." Inspired by a true story.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: PLEASE READ!!! **

Hmm…okay….so I started this story a really long time ago…and then didn't update it for a very very long time…and for that I cannot apologize enough. But, as you might have noticed, I absolutely suck at keeping up with updates. But I really really want to finish this story.

So, I sat down and started to revise this puppy…because I wasn't very happy with the first version. And expanded it.

Okay, so I thought I was never going to write fanfic again….until this idea struck me.

I was watching my new concert/documentary DVD by my absolute favorite singer/songwriter Darren Hayes… and I was thinking how a lot of Darren's story would make a good…well…story, and thus, this idea was born.

A lot of what happens in this story to Spike is something that happened to Darren. A lot of it is also conjecture and my own imagination. For example, the love story of this is made up in my own mind…but a lot of the professional sides of it are similar to what Darren went through…or I should say, what he **says **happened. We're dealing with a lot of one-sided story here…but I guess, in a way, that's true for most cases.

Also, I'm trying to write in ways I've never done in the past. It may seem a little disjointed… I will try to keep things straight with dates, etc.

And lastly, there are a lot of songs in this fic…if you don't like that, sorry, but, in this story, like Darren, Spike's music is dictated by his life, so….

_**CONFESSIONS OF A ROCKSTAR**_

_**Chapter One: Professional Lead Vocalist Wanted**_

_**Interview 2000**_

_I think I remember it differently than Angel…_

_I was a complete nervous wreck…_

_The last bloody person…. I had no experience - I was just someone who had sung in couple of school musicals…_

_So…_

_I sang for 'em…_

**1993**

**London, England**

"So, are you going to do it?"

Twenty-one year old William Giles looked up from the ad he had been contemplating for the past twenty or so minutes. "What'd you say, luv?"

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. She pointed to the paper in his hands. "That. Are you going to do it?"

He looked down at it again.

Professional Lead Vocalist Wanted

For Professional Outfit

Presently Financed by Major Publishing Company

They were seated on the sofa in the lounge of the residence hall. It was late on a Sunday night and most of the other students had already gone down for the evening. However, Buffy was desperately trying to put the finishing touches on her paper regarding marginal imagery of Gothic Art. William was staying up for her. He would help…but his major was English literature - not Art History. He really didn't get it. What the hell was marginal imagery anyway?

William, when he was in secondary school, pursued drama and music. However, when he was presented an opportunity to pursue it further in a post-secondary school, turned it down. Why? Because his then-girlfriend, Cecily, didn't get accepted. Of course, they ended up breaking up two weeks later, anyway. Sure, he was heartbroken. Of course, he was. Cecily was his first real girlfriend and he, being the romantic that he was, thought they were meant to be.

But then, he came to the University, on a scholarship he managed to get - otherwise he never would have been able to afford to go. Two weeks after the first term began he met her. Buffy. The sweet American girl who was completely lost in this foreign country. The attraction was instant and they had been inseparable ever since. Buffy Summers, William was convinced, was the love of his life. He had found the one. The one he was going to marry.

The one who was currently staring at him, awaiting an answer.

The ad was something he had been holding on to for the past week. He found it in a small newsmagazine about local bands when he was working one night at the music store near the campus. To be completely honest, he had no idea why the idea was so appealing. He'd never had any musical performance experience at all…well, unless you counted the high school musical. He wasn't a singer. He was a writer. He liked to write poetry. Sure, he had gotten plenty of compliments on his voice. Sure, it was something of a fantasy of his, but really, he, a lead vocalist? It was an absurd idea.

But then, his inner voice questioned, why did he keep the ad? Why didn't he just toss it?

Because, he thought to himself, it's something you've always wanted. Ever since you were a kid. It's your dream job.

Another minute dragged on.

"Well? Are you?" Buffy asked, exasperated by his slow response.

He sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't think so." He crumbled the ad and tossed it toward the trash can across the room. It bounced off the rim and fell to the ground. William sighed again and leaned his head against the back of the sofa, looking at his love. "Are you almost finished?"

Her eyes never left her paper as she scribbled madly, as if struck with a sudden brilliant idea. "Why not?"

He suppressed another sigh. "'Cuz, luv, they'll be wanting someone with experience, somethin' I don't have. I'm not a singer."

She put her pen down and looked at him. "Why do you think that? You've got an amazing voice."

"Thanks, pet. But, I still think it'd be a waste of time."

"Well, you won't know until you try out." With that, she returned to her paper.

William, thinking the subject was dropped, settled down in the cushions to watch her work. However, perhaps against his better judgment, his eyes slid back to the crumbled ad.

No…it was stupid. He'd only be setting himself up for embarrassment. And failure. Besides, he already had his future planned. Graduate college, marry Buffy, have lots of kids, teach and write. Nowhere in those plans did singing fit.

So…again, why was the temptation so strong? Why couldn't he stop thinking about it? Maybe Buffy was right. He should just, at least, call, find some things out. Maybe it wouldn't be a waste of time.

He stood up and, like a moth to the flame, moved towards the piece of paper and picked it up. Almost reverently, he smoothed the wrinkles out.

Maybe…

Buffy slipped her eyes up, keeping her face down, and watched him. She smiled as he picked up the ad. Then, she added the final words to her paper. Whipping it out, she handed it to him, "Here, check it, Mr. English Major."

William took the paper from her. Her title made him tilt his head in curiosity. "'The Devil, Sex and Obscenities on the Medieval Church?' What are they teaching you in that class, pet?"

"Ha ha," she deadpanned. "Just read it."

Anxious didn't even begin to describe how William was feeling as he pulled his car up to The Bronze. He got up the nerves and finally contacted Angel. He was told the band was called Red Edge. Their previous lead vocalist quit, due to personal reasons. No experience? No problem. Looking for talent. Alright. Can you come Tuesday night for an audition and to meet the rest of the band? See you then.

So, that was how William found himself at the local club. Buffy offered to go with him, but he declined, worried her presence would shake his already frazzled nerves. As he quietly slipped through the door into the darkened club, his nerves increased as he heard the man currently on stage. Suddenly, he wished he did ask Buffy to tag along. Maybe her presence would have had more of a calming effect than he originally thought.

There was no way he stood a chance. The man on that stage was incredible. And he certainly looked the part of a rock star. William adjusted his glasses self-consciously as he eyed the man's attire. Despite everything said to the contrary, William knew image did play a huge role. And he most definitely didn't look the part. Floppy light brown hair. Wire-framed glasses. The khakis and tucked-in white dress shirt. Definitely not your typical rock star image. Although, he thought to himself, oddly proud, the fresh jagged scar across his left eyebrow added to his lacking rock star appeal.

_**Interview 1997**_

_Oh, this?_

_No, I wish I could say it came from a bar fight, or somethin' manly like that…_

_No, I, uh, I was twenty-one, working at Willy's…Willy's Music Store. The night shift. I was supposed to close for the evenin'._

_And, uh, we were robbed. Don't remember much… 'cept the guy cold cocked me with the gun…_

_No….no, they never did catch the bloody bastard…_

_Last I heard anyway…_

**1993**

"Thank you," a male voice sounded.

The singer stopped singing. "How was that?"

"Good. It was good. Um…we'll call you, okay?"

"Okay….okay….Sure thing." He leapt off the stage and moved towards the exit, where William still was standing.

William stepped to the side as the man passed, sneering at him. The faint aroma of weed trailed the man. William wrinkled his nose. _Nice_.

"You William Giles?" a tall, brunette man, speaking with an American accent, came up to him.

"Oh, yeah," William nodded.

The man held his hand out, "Name's Angel. We spoke on the phone. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." William instantly liked the man. He certainly didn't appear to dismiss him on merely his outward appearance.

Angel gave a slight nod and led William further into the club. He spoke to his fellow band members, "Last one tonight, guys. This is William Giles."

William shook hands with each of the members, trying to remember the names as they were announced. Okay, Timothy was the drummer; Devon, the keyboards, and Sean was on rhythm guitar. And, of course, Angel on lead guitar.

"So, you ready to do this?" Angel asked.

"Um," William cleared his throat, "Yeah, I guess."

Angel gestured to the stage as if to say, 'It's all yours.'

William gave a jerky nod and took his place in front of the band. The voice in the back of his head, the one that always kept him from taking risks like this before spoke up. This was stupid. A stupid idea. He was on the road towards humiliation. No, scratch that; he was racing towards and was about to crash head first into the concrete wall of humiliation. What the bloody hell was he doing up here, on this damn stage?

He wasn't a rock star. He was William Giles, the writer, the poet, who just happened to get parts in plays and musicals. Who took one term of music in which he played the trombone - rather badly, too. And that was years ago. He didn't know anything about music. Not really.

Except that he loved it.

_Get off the stage, you bloody idiot, _his inner voice screamed. Go _back to your books. Go back to your pen and paper. Go back to your safe world._

But, while a huge part of him said 'don't do this,' another part said he needed to do this. Prove to himself that he **could **do this.

He took a deep breath and began to sing.

**Interview 2000**

_…..and everythin' changed…_

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. Chapter 2  Performance Anxiety

**Chapter Two : Performance Anxiety**

**Interview 1999**

_So, there I was… nervous as hell…my bloody voice cracked… I was off-pitch…_

**1993**

The sun had set hours ago. William cursed himself when he noticed what time it was. After midnight. Shit. Well after midnight. By three hours. Definitely wasn't planning on being out that late. He quietly let himself in the residence hall.

The lounge was virtually deserted, except for one person.

Buffy.

She was curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. He instantly felt bad. She obviously was waiting for him to return. And he kept her waiting.

He knelt down in front of her. Smiling softly, he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"Buffy?" he asked quietly.

She didn't stir. He said her name again, a little louder. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey," William whispered.

She moaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Mmm, what time is it?"

William looked at the clock on the wall and cringed, "Twelve after three. Sorry, pet. Didn't mean for you to wait up for me. Hell, wasn't plannin' on being out that long either."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips, letting him know she wasn't upset.

As he sat down beside her, she curled up against him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.

"So, how'd it go?" Buffy asked, nonchalantly.

"Bloody horrible, luv," William said as he leaned his head back.

"Oh." She obviously wasn't expecting that. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely, laying her head on his chest.

There was a moment of silence.

"I got the gig, pet."

Buffy's head whipped up, "But, you just said -"

William grinned, "I know. But -"

She interrupted, smacking him lightly on the chest, "You were leading me on. Trying to make me feel all sorry for you."

She gave a little pout and William chuckled lightly, "Look at that lip. Gonna get it."

His hand moved to the back of her head and pulled her lips to his. She moaned into his mouth and allowed him to sidetrack her for a moment before pulling away.

"Nuh-uh. Don't try to distract me with the smoochies, mister. Now, tell me what happened."

He gave a big dramatic sigh and planted a quick kiss before regaling her with the tale.

_**Interview 1999**_

…_.and, somehow, I got the gig…._

Now, despite his adamancy that the audition was horrible beyond belief, that he totally bombed it, the opposite was quite true. Of course, they didn't know it at the time, but Angel would be telling interviewers for years how it just clicked for him when he heard William sing.

Red Edge decided instantly when William was finished that he was the one. So, yes, that took a grand total of approximately ten minutes.

Of course, Buffy asked what happened during the last eight hours before he came back.

The band was adamant that they got to know one another. That they formed the bond needed for a band as soon as possible.

So, he did.

_**Interview 2005**_

_Angel's a bloody fantastic liar. That ad he placed said the band was about to sign to a record deal. They just needed a lead singer…_

**1994**

It was a few months after William got the gig with Red Edge. And tonight, after endless nights of practice, it would be his first performance with them. Buffy and Dawn, William's younger sister and Buffy's new best friend, entered the club together. They wanted to be there to support him.

"I wonder why Will didn't want us to come," Dawn said as she and Buffy found a table in the middle of the room, with a perfect view of the stage.

Buffy did find that a little odd, as well. Especially since he was initially so proud to be in the band. But lately, he would get upset whenever she asked how practice was going. But she could never figure out why. They were only going to play a small set, consisting of only a few songs. William tried to pass it off as unimportant, not worthy of the girls' time. She knew he wouldn't be expecting them. He thought he had convinced her to make other plans tonight. But, if he thought she was going to miss this, he had another thing coming.

"I don't know," Buffy said as she looked at the eighteen year old.

And so, they made small talk as they waited for Red Edge to take the stage. Both girls had a love for art. Dawn was an aspiring artist, and of course, Buffy was working on her art history degree.

"So, what do you think of Warhol?" Dawn asked, focusing the conversation on the topic the girls loved most.

Buffy's nose scrunched up. "Personally? A little overrated. But, also, Pop Art? So not my thing. Give me an Artemesia any day. Although I wouldn't say no to a little Redon."

"Who?"

"Odilon Redon." Her eyebrow arched, "Don't tell me you've never heard of him?"

Dawn shook her head.

"He was a French Symbolist artist during the 1800's. Remind me and I'll show you some of his works."

"Alright."

"Have you decided whether or not you're going to pursue your art?" Buffy asked.

Dawn shrugged, "I don't know. I want to, but then…I don't know…not sure if I…have what it takes, you know?"

"Well, I think you should. Will showed me some of your work, and I think it's amazing. You're a talented artist. You have a good eye."

Dawn smiled, "Really? Thanks."

"You're very welcome. And William is really proud of you."

Dawn blushed at the compliment. "Oh, there he is," Dawn said, as the emcee announced them, relieved to have something distract the conversation. The five piece band joined the emcee on the stage and took their positions.

William stood in front of the microphone, nerves beginning to stir. _Please, don't screw up_, he thought. He just wasn't sure who he was more worried about. Himself or the rest of the band. His eyes flitted across the audience and immediately landed on his girl and sister. He inwardly groaned. The bloody chit lied to him. But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He had to sing.

Buffy grinned widely as she watched her boyfriend begin.

_I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain  
I'm comin' on like a hurricane  
My lightning's flashing across the sky  
You're only young but you're gonna die_

Buffy and Dawn looked at each other, silently asking each other the same question. Okay, this could be why William didn't want either of them to be there. He was embarrassed. Not because of _his _performance. No. That wasn't it.

_  
I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives  
Nobody's putting up a fight  
I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell  
I'm gonna get you, Satan get you_

_**Interview 2005**_

…_turns out they were nothing more than a bad covers band…who did a lot of AC/DC..._

**1994**

William scanned the crowd. It took him no more than mere seconds to pick them out. Of course, spotting them while he was on stage made it easy. He took a deep breath before making his way over to their table.

Dawn noticed him first, grinned widely and motioned for him crazily. Buffy followed Dawn's wild gestures and smiled at him. When he got to the table, he dropped a quick kiss to her lips before taking a seat in the empty chair.

"I thought you said you weren't going to be here?" he asked.

Buffy simply shrugged, "Why wouldn't we be here?"

"We just wanted to hear you guys," said Dawn.

William cringed, "We suck."

Buffy promptly shook her head, "No, you don't."

"Luv, yeah, we bloody suck." And he was firm in the belief. He thought back to their performance. And winced. "Tim was off beat. The rhythm guitar was out of tune. The tempo kept fluctuating. _Please _tell me you noticed this, too."

Buffy and Dawn shared a look. Okay…yeah…they noticed. It didn't take someone gifted in music to hear all that.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself," Dawn stated matter-of-factly. "It's only your first performance. Things are bound to be a little shaky."

"Bit, we sounded like that since the first rehearsal."

"Oh."

He continued, "If it wasn't for Angel, we would have completely fallen apart right there on stage for all to see."

"Still think you need to give it some more time," Dawn interjected. She looked up, "So, who's tall, dark, and handsome and headed our way?"

"Who?" William turned around and noticed Angel moving towards their table.

The men gave a quick tilt of their heads to acknowledge each other. William turned to the girls, "I don't supposed either of you have met Angel. Girls, Angel. Angel, this is Buffy, my girlfriend, and Dawn, my sister."

"Pleasure to meet you both. Um, do you mind if I borrow Will here for a moment?"

"No, go ahead. We'll wait," Buffy said.

William nodded and followed Angel as they headed for a darker corner of the club, away from prying ears. "What's this all about?" William asked.

"What do you think of tonight's performance?" Angel asked quietly.

William just cast him a look.

Angel nodded, "Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. We suck."

"And not getting any better."

"Their hearts are in the right place…but there's no talent, you know?"

William nodded. He respected Angel's musical opinion. The night they met, he learned about Angel's talent as a multi-instrumentalist, specializing in the keyboards and guitar. And he also did some music producing as a day job. Small stuff, nothing real big. Although that was a huge dream of his.

William may not have the musical background like Angel, but within the few months of being in the band, he learned a lot. He learned all the industry talk. He learned about music. Things he barely remembered from his school days were revived. Angel was an excellent teacher.

"But you," Angel continued. "You've got talent. Amazing talent."

William blushed silently at the compliment, still not used to being paid such praise. "You're not bad yourself, mate."

"Thanks. I was thinking… This is something I've been wanting to do for a while, but I've been looking for someone to work with. And, I think I finally found that person. Will, I think we should split from the band."

**End Chapter Two**

A/N: The song William was singing was AC/DC's Hells Bells. I don't really know any of their songs. I just surfed online and found the lyrics and thought, okay, why not…

And, please forgive all the art history references I will probably continue to make throughout the story…it's my major as well as Buffy's so….and her opinions tend to reflect my own…


	3. Chapter 3  Open Doors

**Chapter Three : Open Doors**

**1994**

"Leave the band?" William asked.

"Yeah. Form our own group. Hell, we don't necessarily need to do it right away, if you don't want to. But I fully intend to leave, whether you want to or not."

"What brought this on, mate?"

Angel shrugged, "I feel like it's well past time to grow, musically. And we're kinda stuck in a rut with this band. I've been wanting to write my own stuff. I thought that's what the rest of the band wanted, too, but… all they seem to really want to do is play some AC/DC songs."

William smirked, "Yeah, noticed that."

Angel laughed. "Hey, have you ever tried writing any lyrics?"

That was another thing they discussed when they first met. When he learned of William's penchant for writing, especially poetry, Angel surprisingly didn't laugh and poke fun at William as so many other guys did. Instead, he encouraged William to try his hand at writing lyrics.

You never know, Angel had said, there might be a few songs in him just dying to get out.

William was surprised at how naturally it seemed to come to him. Though he hadn't shown anyone yet, not even Buffy, he felt confident in himself.

"Yeah, lil' bit. Depends on my inspiration, yeah?" He looked across the club at Buffy and could not stop the smile that came across his face as he watched her animated conversation with Dawn.

Angel caught it and followed William's gaze. "So, uh…did you finally get it?" He found it somewhat awkward talking about something that wasn't music-related with the man beside him. They did it so infrequently.

"Wha'? Oh, yeah. Took several of my paychecks from the music store, but I got it."

So, demand for Red Edge wasn't great. William didn't really care. After the talk he had with Angel about possibly splitting from the band, the two of them started to spend some of their free time working together, combining William's lyrics to Angel's music. William also finally told Buffy about his lyrical writings and even let her read some of them. Sometimes he even sang them to her.

She liked that…

William smiled as he watched Buffy talk spiritedly with her fellow art history majors.

"I'm telling you. I don't care what Brisson's so-called measurements say. There is no way that Francesca's egg is a chicken egg. All you have to do is look at the perspective of the painting and you can tell it's way too big. An ostrich egg makes much more sense. Especially considering the history around their donation to churches," Buffy said adamantly.

One of the girls she was talking with spoke, "What if it's not an egg at all. What if it's a pearl."

Buffy contemplated the girl's theory, "Yeah. I can see that possibility. The giant shell. The purity of a pearl. Definitely makes more sense than a chicken egg. What's holy about that?" She gave a small laugh.

She was so passionate. Passionate about everything. Art, life, love, him.

Yes, he could admit that she truly did feel the same as he did for her. But, still, was it too soon?

His hand gripped the velvet box hidden in his pocket. He had it for weeks, after spending several more weeks saving up for it. Now, all he had to do was pluck up the courage and ask her. But, what would she say? Yes, they were only twenty-one. Most people would say that was too young. Hell, they were still in college, albeit for only one more year.

He did know, though, that he couldn't imagine life without her.

She was it for him. She was the one.

Okay, he thought, now how do I ask her? Could he do it here, right now, in front of her friends? Should he wait until tonight at the club, ask her on stage? Or, when they're alone? And, how should he ask her? Should he go the traditional route and get down on one knee? Should he have it literally written in the sky?

Damn it, why was it so bloody hard? He should just do what came naturally. Except… he didn't go around proposing everyday.

William watched almost helplessly as Buffy noticed him, smiled lovingly, bid farewell to her friends, and made her way towards him.

"Hey," Buffy said.

"What _are _they teaching you in that class? First the Devil and sex and now chicken eggs?"

She smiled. "First, the Devil and sex were for a different class. And it's just iconography. Nothing more," she finished, leaning up to kiss him.

He moaned into the kiss, deepening it, not caring they were in the middle of the corridor as fellow students watched with interest as they made their ways to classes.

"Marry me," he whispered against her lips.

Surprised, Buffy tore her lips from his, "W-What?"

Okay, so this was it. He could try to change the subject, make her forget what he just said. Or, he could go though with it. Well…he started it, so…he might as well finish it, right? He just hoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of everyone else.

He cleared his throat. With his hand slipping into his pocket, he took a small step back and found himself down on one knee. He was vaguely aware of everyone stopping to watch the show in front of them; he was focused on Buffy.

Her breathing increased as her anxiety slowly took hold. "William?" she asked shakily. "What…what is this?"

He pulled the precious velvet box from his pocket. He looked down at it, contemplating his words. "Buffy, luv, um…I know it's probably too early and everything. But…" he swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to get the rest of the words out. He took the ring out of the box and heard the gasp of Buffy, as well as several other female students. "But, it…it would make me the happiest man on earth if you'd marry me." He held the ring out, hand shaking as he awaited her response.

"Will…"

Her hesitation nearly killed him. Of course, his inner voice chided, you're going to make a huge fool out of yourself. He moved to get up, "It's okay. It's too ear-"

"Of course, it's yes!" Buffy exclaimed, a huge smile on her face.

William was surprised for a moment, not sure he heard correctly. "Yes?"

Buffy nodded, her eyes tearing up. "Yes," she whispered.

A huge grin broke out on his face as he stood and slipped the ring on her finger. She threw her arms around him and he returned the hug with equal fervor. Buffy pulled back enough to pull him into a deep kiss, heedless to the cheers they were both receiving from the gathering crowd.

**END CHAPTER THREE**

A/N: The argument Buffy is having pertains to a Renaissance painting by Piero della Francesca's Montefeltro Altarpiece. And it's a real argument that art historians have had. Is it a chicken or ostrich egg? It's quite amusing how nasty the scholars would get towards each other in their articles.


	4. Chapter 4 End of the Road

**Chapter Four - End of the Road**

_**Interview 1998**_

_The summer of ninety-four was a big time for me…_

_A lot of things happened…_

**1994**

William had been working with Angel and Red Edge for nearly a year now. Things were never truly going well. But, of course, that didn't mean they couldn't get worse. Which they did. Things within the band were getting increasingly tense. It felt like everyone couldn't agree on everything. Practices were often getting cut short or cancelled all together because someone said something someone else didn't like. Mostly, it had to do with music. Of course, didn't it always?

William and Angel were still writing music together and still intending to leave the band. They had yet to inform the rest of the band. William was beginning to believe that the time was definitely closing in for them to officially call it quits with Red Edge. Things were not going to improve, despite everyone's adamancy that it would.

Graduation had come and gone. William had found himself hired at a publishing house. And he hated every minute of it… What started out years ago as a dream now turned into a burden. A necessary evil to pay the bills.

_**Interview 2002**_

_My parents - they wanted me to be a bloody lawyer. Then, of course, I went against that an' majored in English Literature. _

_But they grew to tolerate that._

_So…imagine their despair when I said, "Mum, Da' - I'm going to be a rockstar."_

**1994**

William found in the short time he'd been with Red Edge, his dreams severely shifted. His dreams changed.

Hell, he'd changed.

William seemed to have blossomed in college and even more so with the band. He gained a confidence he never had before. His shyness was tempered.

His dream before - becoming a writer - now was music. Instead of novels and poetry, he spent his time writing lyrics.

He and Angel were becoming increasingly serious about their music. They believed they had a chance. A chance to actually become something.

_**Interview 2002**_

_Da' was like, 'You're gonna end up in the bloody gutter!'_

**1994**

"Hey, Mum," William said as she answered the phone.

"William? How have you been? How's Buffy?" Anne asked.

"Good. She's good. I just thought I'd call. See how things are with you and Da'. Let you two in on something big that's been happenin'."

"We're good. Should-should I get your father on the other phone? Is the wedding still happening?"

"Yeah. That's still on. No problems with that. You know that, Mum. You've been helpin' us out. And, yeah, if Da' wants to hear, he can."

"Okay." He heard her pull the phone from her face and yell. "Rupert! Your son's on the phone. Wants to talk to both of us." Some more noise. "He's coming, dear."

"Hey, son," his father said as he picked up the other phone.

"Hey, Da'. I know I should probably tell you guys this in person, but -"

Anne interrupted, "Is Buffy pregnant?"

"No, Mum. Nothing like that. This doesn't have anything to do with her. This is about me."

"Well, what is it?" Giles asked.

"Mum, Da', I'm gonna be a rockstar."

There was a moment of silence on the line before his mother spoke, "William, are-are you saying…what are you saying?"

"You guys remember when I told you about this band I've been singin' for?"

"Yeah. The Red something or other," his father said.

"Yeah. Red Edge. Well, anyway, this guy in the band, Angel, and I have been working together, writing our own music. And we're thinking - no, we're going to take this to the professional level. We're going to be rock stars."

"Honey, we don't want you to be disappointed. But don't get your hopes -"

"Mum. It's okay. It's going to happen. I know it's going to happen."

_**Interview 1999**_

_Angel and I came to a decision…_

**1994**

It was two weeks before William was set to marry Buffy. And, tonight, he and Angel were going to finally do it.

_**Interview 1999**_

_It was risk. A bloody huge one. But it was one we both were willing to take…_

_The time had long since come…_

**June 1994**

He and Angel had called the other members of Red Edge to an impromptu meeting at Angel's flat.

William wouldn't say it aloud, but he was nervous about how the rest of the band would take the news. He envisioned badly.

"So, uh, why are we here?" Timothy asked once everyone was settled.

William glanced at Angel, before standing, his nerves causing him to pace the room. "Well," he cleared his throat, "Angel and I…we've been thinking. For a while now. And we've reached a decision. Now, understand, we've put a lot of thought into this and -"

"We're leaving the band," Angel interrupted.

There was silence.

Then the explosion.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"What the fuck!"

"Shit!"

After that, it was indistinct as everyone yelled at everyone else. Blaming everyone else.

"Hey!" William yelled over the cacophony, getting everyone's attention. "Look, mates, admit it, lately the band…well, let's be honest, we suck. We've always sucked. And, all this arguin' we've been doin' is also showin' itself on the bloody stage. We're fallin' apart. We've been getting less and less gigs. Not that we were getting a lot to begin with. No one wants to hire a band that bloody sucks. I don't know…maybe we've just reached the end of this road." He took a deep breath.

"William is also trying to say that we've been writing together. What we've got is really coming together."

"It just doesn't include us. Is that what you're saying?" Sean asked.

"Uh," Angel hesitated. He then nodded, "Yeah. It-it doesn't."

William entered the flat he shared with Buffy. He dropped his keys on the table next to the door, giving a big sigh.

"Didn't go well, huh?" Buffy asked from her seat on the sofa.

His hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he made his way to her, "Well…it could have gone worse, I suppose."

She looked at him as he plopped down beside her, "Well, you can't blame them for being upset…and angry?"

He nodded, both in agreement and to answer her question, "I know, luv, but if Angel and I didn't do this, we probably would have still ended up breaking up the band."

Buffy nodded, considering this. "Yeah, you guys haven't exactly been buddy-buddy lately. So, uh, what are you two going to do now?"

William shook his head, "I'm not sure. Guess that's the next step we need to take… figure things out."

Buffy smiled, "Probably be best. So, any ideas?"

"None." He was silent for a moment before leaning his head back, eyes closed, and groaning, "I swear, this is bloody frustrating."

His eyes snapped open when he felt Buffy straddle his lap, "Well…if you'd like, I could help you…relieve some of those…frustrations," she said, looking at him from behind hooded eyes.

He grinned and reached for her lips, "Guess you could."

**END CHAPTER FOUR**


	5. Chapter 5 Do you?

**CHAPTER FIVE - Do you?**

**July 1994**

So…finally the day was here.

And the wedding.

It was to be a simple ceremony. Just close relatives and friends. Neither of them wanted anything bigger.

It was another nervous day for William since the split from Red Edge two weeks ago, and for more reasons. Not only was he marrying the girl of his dreams, but he was also meeting said girl's parents for the first time.

Joyce and Hank saved for several months to have enough money to fly to London to watch their daughter get married, even though they shared similar reservations his parents did about the timing of the marriage.

William remembered when he told his parents he was getting married, the first thing they asked was "Is she pregnant?" Just as they did every time he called. Buffy's parents asked the same when she phoned them.

But that didn't matter. It was done. In the past.

Today was a day of celebration. And nothing could ruin that.

William was pacing the small bedroom as he waited for the ceremony to begin. His parents had finally decided to allow the wedding to take place in their backyard after much coaxing from both William and Buffy.

There was a quiet knock before the door opened and his sister's head popped in, "William?"

"Yeah. What is it?"

Dawn entered the room, "Just thought I'd let you know that Mr. and Mrs. Summers are here. I'm assuming you'll wanna meet them before you actually marry their only daughter."

"Thank you, 'Bit. I'll-I'll be down in a sec."

"Okay. I'll let them know." She left, closing the door behind her.

William stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking in his appearance. His dress suit was impeccable. The black tie was perfectly straight, as he should know after spending the better part of an hour messing with it. His unruly locks were tamed, or as much as they could be. He took a deep breath.

Time to meet the future in-laws.

"Mr. and Mrs. Summers?"

Joyce and Hank turned around to face the young man in the dress suit.

"I take it you'd be William?" Hank asked.

William swallowed, trying to qualm his nerves. "Uh, yeah. Yes, I'm William Giles." He held his hand out, grateful when Mr. Summers grasped it and gave a firm shake.

"I'm Hank."

William gave a nod. And before he realized it, Mrs. Summers engulfed him in a hug. After his initial shock quickly wore off, he reciprocated the hug.

"It's so nice to finally meet you. Buffy has been going on and on about you since the two of you met. She loves you," Joyce said, smiling brightly as she pulled away from the impromptu hug.

William felt a smile widen on his face, "Feeling's definitely mutual, Mrs. Summers."

"Oh, please, call me Joyce."

* * *

Buffy spun around in front of the mirror, surveying her dress. Dawn stood behind her, observing her reflection, having just entered the room. Buffy caught her eyes in the mirror and broke out into a smile.

"How do I look?"

"You look absolutely gorgeous and you know it. Will is going to go nuts when he sees your dress."

If it was possible, Buffy's smile grew even wider at the mention of her soon-to-be-husband. "God, I'm so happy. I can't believe the day's finally here."

Her excitement was contagious and Dawn broke into an equally huge grin. "I'm happy for you, too. And William," Dawn said. She leaned in conspiratorially, "You know, I really think you're the one for my brother. You've really brought him out of his shell. He was quite the wallflower before he met you."

The door opened and Anne stuck her head in, "Buffy, dear, it's time. Are you ready?"

"Yep," Buffy said, bobbing her head up and down ecstatically. "Let's go get married."

* * *

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

* * *

The door to the room swung open easily. William turned to his new bride and, without warning, scooped her into his arms. Buffy let out a gasp, "Will! What are you doing?"

"Well, it's tradition, isn't it?" He stepped across the threshold to the hotel room. "No reason to mess with it."

He placed her back on the ground and closed the door behind him. His hands moved to her waist and they stood there, feeling somewhat awkward.

Buffy gave a slightly nervous smile, "Now what?"

He chuckled slightly. "Feels different, doesn't it?"

She gave a nod, "Yeah. That's what I was thinking. But then, why should it? It's not like we haven't done this before."

"Just not as husband and wife," William said, with a smile.

His smile was contagious. "Yeah," Buffy said, grinning widely. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. And that was all it took to vanquish their nerves. William moaned into the kiss, as Buffy traced his lips with her tongue, begging entrance, which he eagerly granted. Lips fused, their hands began to wander. Buffy's hands roamed across his shoulders, pushing his jacket out of the way. He released his hold on her briefly to shrug out of the jacket before replacing his hands against her back, moving to the zipper of her dress.

His kisses moved from her lips to her neck and jaw, lapping and nipping gently, as his hands deftly unzipped the dress and pushed the dress off her shoulders and to the ground. William pulled back to look at her, clad in only a pair of lacy panties. She blushed under his gaze.

"Beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful wife," William whispered reverently as he once again closed the distance between them, pulling her in his arms, moving towards the bed.

William rolled over, gasping for breath, pulling Buffy close to him.

"Wow," Buffy gasped as she laid her head on his chest.

He gave a small chuckle and the two fell into comfortable silence, each enjoying the new martial bliss.

"Sorry we can't afford anything more than this," William whispered, referring to the hotel room they were in. He had wanted to be able to take his wife to some exotic location, where they could spend the next two weeks alone. Just the two of them. Unfortunately, he couldn't.

Buffy raised her head to look at him, "This? It doesn't matter to me where we go. Or for how long. I just want to be with you. That's all that matters."

"You sure, pet?"

"Of course," Buffy said, leaning in to kiss him.

"I promise though, luv, things will be different. They'll change. And we'll have more than just a weekend in a hotel room."

**END CHAPTER FIVE**


	6. Chapter 6 Perchance to Dream

**Chapter Six - Perchance to Dream**

_**Interview 2000**_

_We sent out a hundred and fifty demo tapes…

* * *

_

**November 1994**

Acid Reign.

That was the name they agreed on after a long and arduous discussion. It wasn't their first choice, but, as it turned out, that name was already being used by another band. So…Acid Reign it was.

And, since a name was chosen, William and Angel found themselves trying to put together a demo tape. They had written enough material to do so.

Money to do the tape, however, was a different story. In that, they didn't have any. William was still working days at the publishing house and Angel still produced for small local bands but they didn't have money to spare. Especially William and his bride, because Buffy decided she wanted to go for her Master's and potentially her Ph.D. And William supported her decision. It wasn't hard for him to do so. She had done it for him, and, lately, had to deal with his considerable lack of presence because of the demo tape. William felt horrible about it, but she assured him countless times it was okay. She had classes a lot of the time anyway. She knew this was a huge dream for him, just as he understood her passion for art.

So, it was mutual understanding between the two of them that they had to let the other follow their dreams.

"_I've seen the other girls in the magazines, yeah_

_But that kind of beauty is not my style, no_

_The way you're looking at me_

_I guess I can't believe it_

_You know, I'm usually shy_

_But I'm willing to try_

_Girl, I think I want you_

_I don't want to take you home_

_I just want someone to call my own…"_

"Alright. I got it," Angel said.

William stepped away from the microphone placed inside an empty closet in their make-shift studio at Angel's. Their money issue was solved when Angel suggested one day that they could use his place. They couldn't afford to use an actual studio, so they could simply bring the studio home. After all, with Angel's job, acquiring the equipment for temporary use wasn't so difficult.

They had been working on this demo tape for months and it was finally finished.

Thank the bloody heavens, William thought to himself. This had been tedious. And at times, felt completely not worth it. The constant re-recording, adjusting, readjusting, rearranging, rewriting, cutting, mixing.

But it had to be perfect. After all, no respectable label would sign you if you sucked… Well…most of the time…

"So, mate, about how many of these do you think we should send out?"

Angel leaned back in his chair, "Well…"

One hundred and fifty turned out to be the magic number. Demo tapes were sent to any and every label and person they could think of. Big and small.

Atlantic. Universal. BMG. RCA. Columbia. Along with several other big ones and several independent labels.

They didn't want to leave any leaf unturned. Their future and dreams were riding on this.

* * *

**A few weeks later**

"Hey, mate, we got 'nother letter," William said, walking into Angel's studio.

"Who's it from?" Angel asked, nervous anxiety tinting his voice.

"Umm, Sony Columbia USA," William said, tearing into the envelope.

Angel jumped to his feet and walked closer to William, moving excitedly like a little kid. This letter could potentially be the single most important letter in both their lives.

"Well? What does it say?" Angel asked as William looked over the letter.

"…thank you for your…blah, blah, bloody blah….Unfortunately, we must, at the present time, reject your…."

Both men sighed, greatly disappointed. William crumbled up the letter and tossed it in the trash.

"That makes how many?"

* * *

_**Interview 2000**_

…_.and received one hundred and fifty bloody rejection letters…

* * *

_

**December 1994**

Rejection was hard. It was tough. It was downright cruel.

William decided all this after he and Angel received all those rejection letters.

Needless to say, both men were feeling a little down and disheartened. Maybe, William slowly, reluctantly decided, it simply wasn't meant to be. He resigned himself to working at his present job. As much as he hated it, he was insanely glad he had the presence of mind not to quit before anything was confirmed.

Or denied, as the case ended up.

Of course, Buffy wouldn't have let him just up and quit anyway without anything guaranteed first.

Speaking of Buffy, she felt just as horrible as they did about the mountain of rejection letters Acid Reign received. She understood it was huge blow to William's confidence and self-esteem. She hated watching him resignedly going to work everyday at a place he detested. She wanted to tell him it was okay. It didn't matter. Everything would correct itself. Just give it time. But she didn't want to lie to him either. And she didn't want to give him any false hope.

She didn't want to watch him fall again.

It was a cold evening. A week away form Christmas. William and Buffy laid together, cuddled up on the sofa. They were laying in comfortable silence, watching the lights flicker, sparkle, alternate on their little Christmas tree. It would be their first Christmas together as husband and wife and while they didn't have much money, they were determined to not have that let them down.

"William?" Buffy asked quietly, not wanting to break the spell.

"Yeah, pet?"

"I'm…I'm sorry it didn't go the way you were hoping. I know you're disappointed. But maybe -"

The phone rang, disturbing them. William groaned in frustration and reached over to the end table, grabbing the phone.

"Yeah?"

He listened quietly, "Tomorrow? Yeah, I should be able to. Yeah….okay, mate. See ya then." The call ended and he hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" Buffy asked, turning around so she was facing him.

He gave her a quick kiss, "Angel. Wants me to meet him at the studio tomorrow. I don't know why. He didn't say." He shrugged his shoulders.

"So, mate, why the cryptic phone call?" William asked as he entered the studio, taking off his jacket.

Angel ceased his conversation with the other unfamiliar man in the room and looked at him. The man beside him smiled in greeting. He looked professional, dressed properly in a business suit and necktie, wire framed glasses perched on his nose.

"Who are you?" William asked.

The man walked towards him, hand outstretched, "You must be Mr. Giles."

"William," he said, instinctively.

"Er, of course, William. I'm Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."

William grasped his hand and shook it firmly. "Okay. So, uh, what's going on?" He stole a glance at Angel, who was currently sporting a huge grin on his face.

"Of course. I was just discussing it with your partner when you arrived. I, er, managed to procure one of your demos from a friend of mine. And, I have to say, I was very impressed with what I heard. I understand, however, from Mr. Crawford here, that most were not?"

"…Yeah…" William was hesitant. This Wyndham-Pryce bloke couldn't be saying what he thought he was saying. Could he?

"Mr. Giles, I believe Acid Reign is in need of some serious financial backing. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

Wesley smiled, "Very well. I'd like to work with you."

**Author's Notes:** The song William sings in this chapter belongs to Savage Garden. It could be found on their actual demo tape that they sent out. It is called "Aubergine Girl." I was given a copy by a friend who got a copy from who knows where and while the quality isn't the best, I believe the lyrics are accurate or pretty close to it.


	7. Chapter 7 Potential

**Chapter Seven: Potential **

_**Interview 2005**_

_Now, you have to remember. That's how my career got started.

* * *

_

**1994**

"You would? You'd like to work…with us?" William asked, surprised. Last night, he was beginning to let go of the dream, believing it to never be possible. He was beginning to believe he was one of those who could not achieve the impossible. And now, this man, this stranger in front of him was telling him he wanted to finance them?

Was he dreaming? Still?

Wesley smiled, "Yes, I would. I believe you boys have serious talent. Something unique. The labels might not see it. But I do."

"You do?" William dumbly repeated. He refused to let himself believe. After months and months of hoping that maybe, just maybe, this letter or the next letter would be good news, he found himself questioning. Cautious. William looked at the normally stoic Angel, who was smiling and nodding.

"That's right," Wesley said. He stepped forward, removing his glasses, "Now, should we talk business?"

William drove home in a daze. He and Angel spent the entire afternoon with Wyndham-Pryce. He seemed legitimate. Wasn't pulling their legs. Wasn't stringing them along. Wasn't going to go behind their backs tonight and have a good laugh at their gullibility.

They spent the time negotiating. Going over things.

Business.

Turned out Wyndham-Pryce was friends with one of those important guys over at EMI Records, the ones who decided whether or not you were good enough. Apparently, this guy thought they had that thing called potential. It was a pesky thing. Potential. While it hinted at promises, it was never written in stone. So much depended on this potential to grow from mere possibility to reality.

If the stars were misaligned. If your package was lost in the post. If you did or didn't send the best songs you could have. If you miss that one big note that could make or break the song. If that guy, the one holding your future in his hands, has a bad day or not. If he even gets to your demo tape.

And, of course, the most important thing… if your music has the potential to sell.

And sell well. That was most important. You could have all the talent in the world, but if your music didn't have the potential to sell, well, as they say, don't quit your day job.

But, he, this guy who said they had potential, was only one guy…the others said 'no.' The ones who had more power. Acid Reign wasn't what they were looking for at the present time. They wouldn't bring them the money. The public was not interested in their style. So, this faceless guy, the one who wanted them, played the tape for Wesley. He knew Wesley was looking for another band to finance. He knew Wesley would give them a chance. Even though he could not. No matter how much he wanted to.

And Wesley, it turned out, used to be a music producer for ones of those major labels a while back. He was huge. He knew talent when he heard it. He molded several musicians sent his way into international superstars. But now, he used his considerable profits to help turn small bands into not-so-small bands.

And he wanted Acid Reign.

And so, this was it. William wasn't merely dreaming. He was _living _his dream. Everything was beginning to pay off.

He couldn't wait to tell Buffy.

* * *

_**Interview 2005**_

_We had an independent financial backer. _

_We didn't have a label.

* * *

_

**1994**

"Buffy, love? You home?" William asked as he entered their flat, dropping his keys on the table near the door.

"In the kitchen."

He smiled and followed her voice. He found her at the stove, wooden spoon in hand as she raised it to her mouth to take a quick taste test of the stew. Her face scrunched up in distaste.

"Needs more salt," she mumbled to herself.

William moved towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his chest and pressing kisses along the side of her neck. His hands wandered to her the back of her neck and into her hair. He pulled her hair free from the band holding it and let it cascade down her shoulders. His kisses across her neck grew in intensity and she moaned, dropping the spoon somewhere in the vicinity of the stove.

"William," Buffy moaned.

"Hey, pet," he whispered before reaching around to place a kiss on her lips.

"What'd Angel want?"

The grin appeared on his face before he could stop. "We had a meeting today."

"Really? With who?" Buffy asked, turning around to face him.

"A bloke named Wyndam-Pryce. Apparently, he saw potential."

A smile slowly graced her face. "You mean-"

He nodded, "Yeah. He wants to give us money. Help us out."

Buffy reached up and gave him a kiss before giggling, happy.

"It's not a major label deal, but we have to start somewhere, right?"

She nodded excitedly, "We need to celebrate. Let's go out."

"Luv, what about -" he gestured to the saucepan still on the stove.

She shrugged, reaching behind her to turn it off. "Doomed from the beginning. So, where do you want to go?"

A hand trailed down her arm before grasping her waist, holding her tightly to his body, "I…think I just want to stay in." He leaned in and kissed her briefly before once again, tracing a line of kisses and nips across her jaw and down her neck.

She tilted her head, allowing him better access, moaning when he reached a particularly erogenous area. "I, uh, I think I can live with that," she whispered huskily.

He grinned against her neck, before running his hands down her body, hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

"Good, pet."

Her laughter could be throughout their home as he carried her to their bed.

* * *

_**Interview 1997**_

_And there you have it._

**END CHAPTER SEVEN**


	8. Chapter 8 Spike

**Chapter Eight : Spike**

_**Interview 1997**_

_I was working at the publishing house, singing under my breath. You know, how you sometimes do. And somebody walked up to me and said, 'Don't quit your day job.'_

_And…quite literally, when they said that, our song came on the radio._

_It was an amazing feeling._

_I knew then, at that moment…it was really happening._

**

* * *

July 1996**

_I'm the kind of person who endorses a deep commitment_

_Getting comfy getting perfect is what I live for _

_But a look and then the smell of perfume_

_It's like I'm down on the floor _

_And I don't know what I'm in for_

_Conversation has a time and place _

_In the interaction of a lover and a mate_

_It's a time of talking using symbols using words_

_Can be likened to a deep sea diver _

_Who is swimming with a rainco-_

William quickly reached over and slapped off the radio. It was just too weird for him to hear his own voice coming through the speakers. Too unreal. Like he was dreaming. The band's first single was released three weeks ago and was already in the number four slot on the national charts. It was mind boggling.

Shortly after Acid Reign began recording with Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, they were introduced to a friend of his. A friend who just so happened to own a record label. Rough Trade Records. It might have only been an independent label that dealt only with British bands. It might not deal with the international market, but it was definitely a step in the right direction, if the national success of their single was any indication.

And it better be, since today he was glad to say he quit his job at that dreaded publishing house.

And now, William stood in front of the full-length mirror on the eve of their very first televised performance, judging his changed appearance.

It was different.

The wavy mousy brown locks were gone. As were the glasses and the khakis. In their place was something sexier, more mysterious. More fitting of a rock star, William truly believed. Bleach blond hair slicked back; contact lenses replaced the wire-framed glasses. Black jeans and t-shirt replaced the khakis and button-downs. And to top it all off, the handsome black leather duster he found on sale.

Staring at the mirror, William barely recognized himself. It was as though William was gone. No longer present. In his place was someone completely new, someone completely different.

Some part of him felt this new person, this alter-ego, needed a name. A personality. But what? He thought back to his days in high school. His personal days in hell. When everyone seemed to have gotten a kick out of harassing him, humiliating him. It was no secret during that time that he was always writing in his journals. Poetry. Prose. It didn't matter. It was a way of expressing himself in ways he couldn't outwardly. His classmates, however, made fun of him for it. Called him effeminate, a ponce, a nancy-boy, anything else they could think of, embarrassed him with public readings of his poetry. They called him William the Bloody, because "of his bloody awful poetry." He remembered someone - he no longer remembered who exactly and besides, did it really matter? - made a comment about rather having a railroad spike shoved through their heads than listen to his work.

That was it.

Spike.

Somehow, it fit. Maybe more so than he originally thought. Because, after all, they all made fun of his poetry and other writings, but now, his writings helped propel him to where he was now.

So now, Spike had a new look and a new name. But he was still apprehensive. No one had seen his new look yet. Would they laugh? Would Buffy love it? Or hate it? Spike knew he was enough of a love's bitch that if she hated it, he'd changed back in a heartbeat.

And let's not forget that trip he was to take tomorrow. God, he was terrified he was going to fuck it up. Spike had been living with the irrational fear the past few days that whatever could go wrong was going to go wrong. That was the fate of the universe, wasn't it? That's what Murphy said, anyway.

He and Angel had been rehearsing for weeks on end when they were asked if they would like to take this trip.

_It's really happening_, he thought to himself. _Bloody hell_.

He ran a hand through his shorter slicked-back locks as he continued to stare at himself in the mirror, still unused to his new appearance. He released a huge sigh.

Spike heard the front door open and his wife call his name.

"In here, luv," he called out.

"Hey, Will. How are you feeling about tomorrow?" Buffy asked, as she rounded the corner. Concern tinted her voice. She was worried about him. Was just as nervous as he was. He knew it. And he was thankful for it. At least he wasn't alone in this.

She halted when he caught sight of his changed appearance. Spike stood still, self-conscious as she continued to stare at him.

Okay, so she was speechless. But, was it the you're-a-sexy-devil kind of speechless or one of those oh-my-god-what-have-you-done-to-yourself reactions? Spike wasn't sure yet. And he wasn't going to be sure unless she said something. He hoped she said something good, but at this point, he would take anything.

"Um, luv?" he asked nervously.

Buffy seemed to give herself a little shake and moved swiftly towards him. And before he knew it, her lips were on his.

Of course, he wasn't complaining. He immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Buffy gave a small moan and weaved her fingers through his locks. But, before they could go any further, she slowly broke away to look at him. She gave him a grin, "So, um, what brought this on?"

Spike shrugged slightly, "'m not sure, love. Just decided I needed a change."

"Well, I like it."

"Really?"

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p.' "You look really hot."

He couldn't help it. He laughed.

**END CHAPTER EIGHT**

A/N: The lyrics used are from "I Want You" by Savage Garden…

Also, according to the quick research I did, their record label, Rough Trade Records, was actually temporarily defunct at the time…but I decided to take a little writer's license with it….so go with it…


	9. Chapter 9 Storybook Band

**CHAPTER NINE - Storybook Band**

_**Interview 2002**_

_The band…we, uh, really had what I guess you could call a storybook start…The kind of start that bands all over dream of…And few ever achieve…

* * *

_

**September 1996 **

Spike paced around the terminal nervously as Buffy watched him with mild amusement. Angel sat casually in one of the many seats waiting for the call to board, head tilted back, listening to his Discman. Alone in his own world. Buffy turned her attention from her husband to this other man. He was somewhat of a mystery to her. Even though he had been a part of their lives for three years now, she barely said more than five words to him. Hell, she's probably only seen him three times in that time, as well. So, she wasn't quite sure what to make of him.

Quiet. Reserved. Introverted. Those three words seemed to fit him. She assumed, of course. He seemed nice enough. And obviously, he was a talented musician. But that was all she knew. And it all came from her husband. Spike never had anything but good things to say about how Angel played. And how he created music. It was always about the music with the two of them. Always.

And she tried to be a friend to Angel. She'd tried to start up a friendly rapport on those few occasions she and he saw each other. But he kept to himself. It was almost a fault. He was pleasant enough to her, but never overly friendly.

He was almost the antithesis to her pacing husband. Who was most definitely more of an extrovert. And who was currently making her dizzy with his incessant pacing.

She stood up and approached him. She stopped in front of him and placed her hands on his forearms, "William. Please, stop."

"Can't help it, love. Bloody nervous," Spike said, sighing.

She looked at him sympathetically, "It's okay."

"No. No, it's bloody not," he broke away from her and began his pacing again.

But Buffy was quickly in front of him again. "Will, what's wrong?"

He sighed and looked somewhat embarrassed. "Never bloody flown before," he muttered.

Buffy gave a small smile, "That's it?"

He looked at her indignantly, "Oi! That's it? That's soddin' it? Bloody unnatural's what it bloody well is. Man was not meant to soddin' fly. If we were, we would have been given bloody wings."

During his tirade, Buffy's grin grew wider. Perhaps she shouldn't be finding humor in her husband's obvious discomfort, but she was. She couldn't help it.

He stopped his rant, glaring at her, "What's so bloody funny?"

"You. And your 'sodding this' and 'sodding that' and 'bloody, bloody, bloody.' And you're fretting. Don't worry. The flight's not that bad. Just long. And boring. I've taken it, remember? Now, are you really that worried about the flying or is it the something else?"

Spike sighed. He glanced briefly at Angel. The other man was paying them no attention, still encompassed in his own world, listening to whatever it was that he was listening to. At least Angel didn't hear his rather embarrassing tirade. No need for that.

Buffy continued, "You've been waiting for this moment for a long, long time and now that it's here…"

"That's just it. I never really expected this. I just know we're gonna screw something up when we get there."

"Why do you say that?"

"Murphy's law?"

She tilted her head at him, skeptical.

He sighed again. "It's just nerves. Once I'm there, it'll be fine."

* * *

_**Interview 2000**_

_Uh…there is a bloke by the name of Guy Zapoleon who, at the time, was a program director at a radio station in the States…Dallas, I think. He had come to England and he had heard our independent single on the radio. And loved it, apparently. He brought it back to the States and I guess, passed it around… well, copies. He made copies of it and passed it around to DJ's. And it kind of…by the time we got to America, the song was moderate rotation…I think it had top 20 airplay before we even got there.

* * *

_

**September 1996**

Spike began his pacing again. "I mean, it's not every bloody day that you're asked to audition for Clive Davis. _The _Clive Davis." He reached her and pulled her into his arms, "This is bloody huge. The President of Arista. Luv, if we get this…"

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist, "I know."

"Arista Records. They're interested. In us."

"I know," she repeated, still smiling. Her hands moved to cup his face and she pulled him down for a kiss.

Their brief kiss was interrupted by the announcement that the flight was now boarding.

They parted, resting foreheads together. Buffy looked at him, "I wish I could go with you."

"I wish you could, too."

"But this thesis is slowly but surely kicking my ass." She pulled away with a sigh. "Now, I want you to call when you get there. Okay?"

"Of course, love. You know I will." He glanced over at Angel, who was putting away his portable CD player and getting his things together to board.

"Miss you," Buffy said.

He leaned in for another quick kiss, "Miss you, too. Gonna miss you so bloody much."

"But it's only for a few days, right? You'll be back soon."

"Of course."

The attendant came on the speaker again to announce that their seats were now boarding.

"Well, pet, that's us." He kissed her briefly again and bent down to pick up his carryon. Their eyes met briefly and an understanding passed over them and he turned to go to Angel's side, who was already standing at the end of the line.

Spike spun around, walking backwards, a smile on his face, "Wish us luck, pet. We're gonna get this, I know it."

She smiled, "Good luck." She waved him goodbye and watched him until he boarded. She moved towards the windows to watch the plane. Quietly, she simply watched and waited. Soon, the plane was pulling away from the terminal and heading for the runway. She didn't leave until the plane was in the air and her husband was on his way to New York.

**END CHAPTER NINE**


	10. Chapter 10 Flight and Performance

**CHAPTER TEN - Flight and Performance**

_**Interview 2000**_

_And it was Clive Davis who flew Acid Reign to New York City and we auditioned for him…_

**September 1996**

Spike's hands grasped the arm rests tightly, eyes squeezed closed, as the plane hit some more turbulence. Bloody hell, he thought, how much more of this? He tried to distract himself, but his CD player ran out of batteries about half way through the flight, and he stupidly forgot to bring extra batteries.

Sighing in relief as the plane leveled out, he looked over at Angel. He was asleep. Of course, he was. Sighing again, Spike turned to his blank notebook in an attempt to perhaps write something. What, he didn't really know. Anything to help keep his mind off the damned flight…

The plane hit another pocket of turbulence.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, gripping the arm rests once again.

Spike never thought he'd be so happy to be on solid ground as he exited the plane and entered LaGuardia. "Thank the bloody stars that's soddin' over," he said as he and Angel waited with the rest of their fellow passengers in front of the baggage pickup.

Angel gave a small smile, "You know we'll just have to do it again in a couple of days."

Spike glared at him, "Thank you for that, mate." He snatched up his suitcase as it came near. "I'm gonna go find a pay phone and call Buffy. Let her know we're here."

Angel nodded, "Okay. Meet you in the front in a few."

"Yeah." He turned and looked for the closest phone.

Setting his luggage down beside him, Spike glimpsed at his watch. 9:05 PM. Of course, that was London time. But at least he knew she'd still be awake. He picked up the handset of the phone and connected to a long-distance operator. As he waited for one to come on the line, he busied himself with setting his watch for five hours behind…Here it was now 4:05.

An operator came on the line and he rattled off all the information she needed and waited for the call to connect. He idly watched the people rush by as he listened to the sounds of the operator speaking to Buffy and then connecting the call.

Then, "William?"

"Hey, pet," he said. "Miss you."

"Miss you, too," he could tell she was smiling from her voice. "I take it you two got there just fine?"

"Yeah."

"How was the flight?"

"Bloody terrifying."

She laughed, "It wasn't that bad."

"To hell it wasn't."

"Poor baby," she humored him.

"The soddin' plane kept shaking."

"You are aware that's normal, right?"

He gave a small shrug, even though she couldn't see him, "Yeah, well…still bloody terrifying."

She giggled again, "So, what's the plan?"

He gave a small sigh, "Not sure. We're supposed to be greeted by some guy and I think he's taking us to Mr. Davis. Or maybe we won't see him until tomorrow."

"Okay, well, I don't want to keep you too long. So, I'll let you go…miss you."

"Miss you, too. Love you, pet."

"Love you, too. See you in a few days."

"Yeah."

With the conversation now over, Spike bent over and picked up his luggage and proceeded toward the entrance where Angel was waiting. Wordlessly, the pair found a man in a suit holding a sign that held both of their names.

"Angel O'Connor and William Giles?" the man asked as they approached him.

"Yeah," Spike said.

"Good. I'm Mr. Davis' assistant, Steve. Unfortunately, Mr. Davis cannot meet with you today, but as arranged to do so tomorrow morning. He asked me to take you to your hotel. Let you get settled in."

The men nodded and followed him to the car. They rode in silence as Spike spent the time looking out the window in amazement.

This was the first time in his life that he'd ever been to America. He listened to tales of the country from Buffy, but he'd never seen it before himself.

He found that he loved it. The modernity of the city. So different from his home in London. But, he still looked forward to leaving the place. After all, Buffy wasn't here.

* * *

**The Next Morning**

When Spike and Angel arrived at the head office of Arista Records, they were led to a sort of recording studio, but bigger than the one they recorded at in London. While not exactly a stage, it suited them just fine. The two of them decided they would go acoustic for the showcase. Spike loved performing acoustically. It allowed him the opportunity to really show off his vocal talents. But, at the same time, he couldn't hide if he screwed up. So, an acoustic performance took talent. And confidence.

Steve greeted them when they arrived and introduced them to the man who would decide their future.

"Pleasure to meet you," Mr. Clive Davis said as he shook their hands. He seemed to be friendly gentlemen. Genuinely interested in being there. "How was the flight? Not too bad, I hope?"

"It was fine, Mr. Davis," Angel said.

Spike didn't argue to the contrary.

Mr. Davis introduced them to the man next to him, "This is Donnie Ienner. He works over at Columbia. He's going to listen in today."

More hands were shook and Spike and Angel took their places.

Spike stood quietly in front of his microphone, eyes closed, attempting to get in the zone, so to speak. He imagined this was just like any other performance. Except, Acid Reign never performed in front of an audience before. Just Wesley as they were recording their debut. But he couldn't let himself go down that track. It would just make him more nervous. He and Angel had been rehearsing tirelessly for this for weeks since they learned of Clive Davis' interest.

They were as prepared for this as they could get. His vocals were never better. Angel's guitar playing was top notch. They had the talent. He knew they did. They wouldn't be here if they didn't. Now, they just needed to make sure the confidence to pull it off was there. After all, talent alone was not enough.

A realization emerged. He was living his dream. He fought to get here. When things looked bleak and it looked like it was a pointless battle, he and Angel trooped on. Never giving up. And now, they were here. In front of one of the biggest music producers in the world. He was taking the time to listen, when so many turned them down.

And, so, it was with this thought, that Spike's confidence swelled and he opened his eyes and sang.

_**Interview 2000**_

_We were initially signed up to Sony by complete accident… _

**END CHAPTER TEN**


	11. Chapter 11 Hang On

_**CHAPTER ELEVEN - Hang on**_

_**Interview 2000**_

…_and in that same meeting, uh…in that same trip, it was the President of Columbia Records, Donnie Ienner, who also requested us to, uh, meet with him and they kinda duked it out…_

**1996**

**London, England**

Buffy stared at the computer screen. Her eyes were bleary and her hands came up to rub them. She let her hands drop heavily to her sides and she gave a big sigh. She was really getting tired of this damned thesis. It was slowly kicking her ass. The further she got in her studies, the more she began to question her motives for continuing on, for striving to get that ever elusive Ph.D. But, damn it, she was going to get it no matter what happens.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes, in the hopes of clearing them. After a few moments, she opened them, squinting.

Nope, still blurry.

She glared at the computer monitor as though it had personally done something to offend her, then gave a huff and jumped to her feet.

That's it. She needed a break. The damned paper could wait. It wasn't going anywhere.

Nope…it _really _wasn't going anywhere. _Really _not.

She paced the room, trying to work off the restlessness. She was getting so frustrated with the paper. But she really only had herself to blame, she supposed. She was the one who chose to focus on a more elusive topic of Egyptian art. Images relating to Heka. No, she couldn't focus her thesis on something like the Temple of Amun-Ra at Karnak or the Book of the Dead. She had to become interested in the parts of Egyptian life and culture that were considerable not mainstream for major inclusion in textbooks and the like.

She gave a sigh.

She didn't want to be writing her paper.

She wanted to be in New York with William.

This was the farthest they had been apart since the one time she went home for Christmas break her first year in England. Their apartment was quiet. Too quiet. She hadn't realized how quiet everything was without him here. Without him here to bring life into the room.

He's only been gone almost two days and she was already missing him terribly.

She reached for the phone. She dialed Dawn's number and waited for her sister-in-law to pick up.

"Hey, Dawn."

"What's up?" Dawn's voice filtered through the handset.

"Just wondering if you'd like to go out or something?" Buffy hoped she didn't sound to hopeful. She needed to get out of the apartment.

"Missing him, aren't you? Too quiet there?" Dawn asked, knowingly.

"You know, it's really creepy when you do that."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Dawn said. Buffy could tell from the inflections in her voice that she was smiling. "But, yes," Dawn continued, "I wouldn't mind getting out, too. My room mate is driving me nuts."

"Okay. The usual place?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't mind dancing."

"Okay. See you in a few."

The two hung up and Buffy went to the bedroom to get dressed for a night on the town.

Surprisingly, despite it being a week night, the club they frequented was crowded. Buffy stood at the entrance, looking around, trying to locate Dawn. She spotted her quickly, already seated at what has come to be known as 'their' table and made her way to her.

"Hey," she greeted Dawn as she took a seat at the table. It was also at this time that Buffy noticed the young man sitting next to William's sister.

"Oh, hey, Buffy, I wanted you to introduce Connor. Buffy, Connor; Connor, Buffy."

Buffy gave him a small wave and a smile, "Hello. Nice to meet you." She looked pointedly at Dawn, "Dawnie didn't tell me she was bringing anyone."

"Oh, no," Connor said, politely, "I just happened to see her. Thought I'd say 'hi.'" He looked between the two women, "If you want, I can go."

Buffy shook her head, "No, you don't have to do that. I was just-"

Dawn spoke up, smiling, "She's just upset cuz she's missing her honey."

Buffy glared at her for a brief second, then shrugged, "Yeah…"

Dawn looked at her sympathetically, "Does he know how long he's going to be in New York?"

Buffy shook her head, "He wasn't quite sure. Something like a couple of days."

"He told me that too, but I was hoping he told you more."

Buffy sighed, "Nope…"

And so the conversation drifted to other topics, mainly, Dawn's newfound relationship with the rather laconic Connor. They drank and they danced and a couple of hours later, Buffy received a call on her relatively new mobile phone.

"Hello?" She promptly smiled as she heard the operator come on the line asking her if she would accept the charges. She, of course, promptly said 'yes' and William came on the line.

"Will?"

"Hey, love," his voice filtered through the noise of the club.

Dawn, who had been watching, mouthed, "William?"

Buffy nodded, fervently, and speaking to Spike said, "So, how did it go?"

"Pretty well. Got some news."

Meanwhile, Dawn was explaining who was on the phone to Connor, who said, "Oh, the guy from Acid Reign? Your brother's the guy from that band?"

Spike, having been able to hear Connor's voice asked, "Who's that?"

"Oh, Connor. Dawn's boyfriend."

"Dawn has a boyfriend? Since when?" She heard him give a sigh, "Never mind, I promised her I wouldn't pull the overprotective brother act on her. Anyway, guess what?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, "I don't know, William. Mr. Davis didn't throw you guys out on your asses?"

William laughed, "Nope. Something better."

"What?" Buffy asked, her excitement growing. Was he about to tell her what she had hoped he would?

"You are talking to one of the newest artists for Columbia Records," he said, happiness ringing in his voice.

"Really? You're not joking, are you? Because if you are, you know I'll have to kick your ass when you get home."

"I'm serious."

She pulled the phone away from her mouth slightly, and spoke to Dawn who was looking at her expectedly.

"They got the deal."

Buffy laughed when Dawn's eyes grew and she let out an excited screech. Several people around them stared at her but she ignored them.

"I hear Dawn's happy," Spike spoke, laughing.

"How'd you guess? But seriously, I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks, pet. We'll be staying tonight and then catch the earliest flight back."

"Yay!" Buffy exclaimed, giggling. "Been missing you." Suddenly, something clicked, "Hang on, I thought you were meeting with Arista?"

_**Interview 2000**_

…_and we loved him and the people there and we loved the label and they signed us pretty much on the spot. _

**END CHAPTER**


	12. Chapter 12 Personal Assistant

**CHAPTER TWELVE - Personal Assistant**

_**Interview 2002**_

_We all have masks, you know. I think you have a…a personality for work, you have a personality for friends, for acquaintances, or whatever. And I think it's a lot to ask for a public person…a performer, to try to let as many of those down as possible… _

* * *

**April 1997**

Miss Willow Rosenberg showed up at the studio earlier than was expected of her. Mostly because she wanted to give a good impression on her first day on the job. She had to admit to herself that she was slightly nervous about working for the lead singer of Acid Reign. Especially since her previous experiences dealing with rock stars left a sour taste in her mouth.

Egotistical was one word that came to her mind about those rock stars. Well, the nicest word… She knew her mother probably wouldn't have approved of her judging a man before she ever really met the guy, but she couldn't stop herself.

But, really, there was a reason there were stereotypes to begin with.

Then, of course, there was the question of why she was even doing this job if she already knew she hated it. Then, followed by the question of why she would accept this job if she didn't like the people she'd have to work with. The answer, however, was simple.

She needed money. And she wanted to work in the music industry. And in order to get anywhere, you had to start _somewhere_.

Even if that somewhere was fetching a stuck-up rock star a glass of water, a towel, or whatever else he demanded, no matter how humiliating it was for her.

Willow found herself in the to the lobby/sitting area of the studio. The only other person there was a petite blond woman. She was sitting on the sofa, legs curled under her, magazine on her lap. She was nursing a diet coke.

When she heard the door open and Willow enter, she looked up and gave a polite smile.

"Hello," she greeted.

Willow answered with a similar greeting.

"You're…Willow, right?"

She gave a nod, "Yep. That's me."

The blond nodded and stood up, "Good. My name's Buffy. William told me he was expecting you."

"William?" Willow didn't remember anyone named that.

Buffy smiled and gave a small eye roll, "You probably know him as Spike. He keeps insisting people call him that. But, I don't think so. No way am I calling my husband 'Spike.'"

"Oh."

Okay, so this guy was already starting to sound like a walk in the park.

"Come on, I'll take you on back. The band's already started rehearsing for today."

Willow followed Buffy to the back where there were various recording rooms, all sound-proofed. Most were empty. But one had the band, in the middle of a rundown of a song.

Buffy and Willow stood outside the door as they waited for them to finish, not wanting to interrupt.

Suddenly, Spike stepped away from the microphone, shaking his head.

Buffy took that as her cue and opened the door.

"No," Spike was saying to the band. "Nope…not bloody feelin' it. Don't know what's wrong."

Angel set his guitar down and went over to the drummer, speaking to him quietly, giving him some tips. It was clear there was some kind of nonverbal connection between Angel and Spike. While Spike couldn't voice what he was finding wrong, Angel seemed to know exactly what it was and went over to correct it.

Acid Reign was in the middle of a rigorous rehearsal schedule and they began their preparations for the promotion of their debut album in England. It was a stressful time. And a busy time. Shortly after they got back home to England, they began work on releasing their second single. And watched it soar to the top of the national charts. A month later, that song that was on moderate rotation in the US was officially released by Columbia, becoming their first US single, and steadily climbed the Billboard charts. Last month, their third single, and first love song, was released in England…and again, they had a national number one hit under their belts.

Singles had been released, and music videos had been made. Magazine interviews had been conducted.

And, just last week, their first album was released in England, debuting at number one on the Brit charts. It was set for release in the rest of the world next week. To say that it was an unbelievable experience was an understatement. Finally, after years of being turned down or told they didn't stand a chance, Acid Reign seemed to set to rule the music world. They had taken the world by storm.

It was the kind of thing that could easily go to one's head. Which was Willow's primary concern.

Spike, noticing Buffy and Willow, turned to the band, saying, "Let's, uh, let's take a break."

He approached Buffy and pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her lips, "Hey, pet."

"Hey, yourself," she said, smiling as they broke apart. She turned to Willow, "This is Willow. You asked me to show her in when she showed up?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I gotta go. The professor's going to mad at me if I don't get those papers graded."

"Okay. See you at home tonight," Spike said, giving her another quick kiss.

"Count on it." Buffy moved away from him and looked at Willow on her way, "Nice meeting you. Sorry I can't stay."

"Oh, no," Willow said. "It's okay. I'm sure I'll manage on my own."

"I'm sure you will." She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "Don't let his bad boy looks tell you otherwise, but, really, he's a big teddy bear."

"Oi. I can you hear you, pet."

Buffy turned to look at him, grinning widely. "What?" she asked innocently.

"I'll take care of you when I get home," he said, smirking.

"Promises, promises," Buffy said as she exited the room.

Spike chuckled quietly, shaking his head, before looking at Willow. She was surprised by the sudden appearance of a shy young man. It was something that simply didn't jar with her preconceived notions of a conceited rock star.

"Umm, Willow, right?"

She nodded, "That's right." She held her hand out. He took it and gave it a firm shake.

"So…" There was brief moment of silence before Spike gave a nervous laugh. "Sorry, love. Just not used to having someone to do things for me. Don't know why the label thinks I even need someone. No offense."

She gave a quick shake of her head, "No, it's okay." She couldn't help but find herself liking this guy. Maybe they weren't all assholes after all. "All you need to worry about is concentrating on your music. I'll deal with everything else, okay?"

"Alright."

* * *

_**Interview 2002**_

_I really think I have…Of course, there's always going to be something to hold back. For a couple of reasons. One, I'm innately quite shy. If you can believe it. Two, if I give you everything right now, what else would there be for you to be interested in?_

**END CHAPTER TWELVE**


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